


Blinded

by ScarletRaven1001



Series: Date Night AUs [1]
Category: Dragon Ball, Dragon Ball Z, Vegebul - Fandom
Genre: Dragon Ball AU, F/M, Human AU, Mini Bang, Romance, Romantic Comedy, Romantic Fluff, VBO Mini Bang 2019, Vegebul AU, Vegebulocracy Mini Bang, With A Twist, blind date au, romcom, vegebulocracy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-03
Updated: 2019-05-10
Packaged: 2020-02-16 15:18:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 14,800
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18694084
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ScarletRaven1001/pseuds/ScarletRaven1001
Summary: Career-driven and focused, Bulma usually finds men boring. When a blind date leaves her stuck with another loser, her wandering eyes land on an intriguing hottie, grudgingly wasting the night by himself. Surely, ditching her date in favor of the first man to have caught her interest in a long while would make her night go much, much better.*COMPLETE; written for the VBO Mini Bang.**With art from Katschusa, Tepepany and Rucifie.*





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hello everyone! This fun little story is my entry for the Vegebul Mini Bang, hosted by Vegebulocracy.  
> I would like to thank my lovely friends Blacksheep115 and Bitchytimemachine for all their help and support as I was writing this fic!  
> Also, this story comes with art from the amazing Katschusa, [Tepepany](%E2%80%9C) and [Rucifie](%E2%80%9C), and I will be posting their art along with the corresponding chapters.  
> Well, let’s begin! I hope you like it!

 

_([Art](https://katschusa.tumblr.com/post/184621161125/blinded-long-time-no-see-everyone-im-finally) by [Katschusa](https://katschusa.tumblr.com))_

 

 

_8-8-8-8-8_

 

He was a nice guy.

Seriously, he was.

Charming, sweet, polite. Had a decent job. Broken up with his girlfriend of five years almost a year ago, and was ready to date again. Had a kitten that he had picked up from a rescue center. A regular volunteer at the local homeless shelter.

He was so. Very. _Nice_.

Maybe, this was why she found him so utterly, unforgivably boring.

Bulma sighed as she reached for her straw, absent-mindedly stirring her margarita as her blind date sipped his latte.

 “So, Bulma,” her date, Kai, began. “What about you? What do you usually do over the weekends?”

Honestly? Sleep till noon, binge watch TV dramas, catch up on science articles, and sometimes drop by the city’s secret swingers’ club so she can try on her sluttier dresses and maybe find a cute guy to ‘ _dance’_ with. But alas, it seemed that her standards were too high, that she had never quite managed to set her eyes on a good enough target.  

She was painfully single, and her friends wanted to help “remedy” that. Hence, the set-up.

“Well,” she mulled, deciding to just make shit up. She was never gonna see this man – or the cat hair on his light gray suit jacket – ever again, anyway. “I enjoy going on wild hunts for magical artifacts.”

“Oh, that’s nice,” he said blandly, his tidy brown hair perfectly in place as he nodded. “What else?”

“Sometimes,” more like almost _never,_ she thought as she spoke, her free hand unconsciously clutching at the dream catcher-shaped pendant that hung low on her chest. “I cook. I’m not very domestic.”

“Well, not everyone is a good cook,” he said as she bent down to take a sip of her drink. “But I am sure that with practice, you could learn. You would make a good wife, then.”

She almost choked. “Ex-excuse me?”

“Yeah, if you learn to cook, you’d be great.”

Her eyes rolled so far back into her head that she thought she could see her own brain matter. She thought about strangling him with the thin tie around his neck, but ultimately decided that he wasn’t even worth the effort. “I wasn’t aware that learning to cook was a standard for measuring my worth.”

Bulma turned her gaze away as he started speaking again, pushing her blue bangs back from where they were trying to poke out her eyes. She disinterestedly scanned the surroundings, scouting out the place as she contemplated on whether she could risk jumping out the nearest window of the upscale restaurant they were dining in.

It was only three floors up. It shouldn’t be _too_ hard, right?

She had almost resigned herself to pretending to listen to Kai again, when she spotted something… _interesting_.

His eyes were the first things she noticed. Dark and brooding, narrowed into impatient slits as he watched over the crowd, a lion hunting for its elusive prey. Unfathomably deep, they flitted from one place to another, expertly taking stock of his surroundings, before again training with laser-like focus on a single point before him.

A square jaw bordered his sharply-angled features, contrasting with lips that seemed almost too pinkish to belong to a man. His nose was straight, belligerently turned up at whatever it was he had been watching. His brows were thick and dark, a complement to his black hair that was swept up into a wildly-controlled wave.

She quickly scanned down, taking note of the wide shoulders hidden beneath a sleek black suit jacket. He had on a deep blue button-down shirt, the first button undone, and she raised a brow as she made out the defined dips of his collarbones, a hint of his bronze chest teasing her view. His thick arms were very tightly encased in long sleeves that were possibly just a few seconds away from ripping apart, outright.

Her lips quirked up into a grin as she watched him scowl down at his watch, before he lifted his gaze to stare almost violently at the entrance door. His expression grew even stormier, and she quickly deduced that he was waiting for someone who was already rather late.

She turned back to her date again, absently nodding and smiling at his words, as she kept the hot stranger in her peripheral vision.

It seemed, something rare had just occurred: Bulma Briefs had found a potential target.

She would give him a few more moments alone, and then…

She would _pounce_.  

 

He was going to murder Kakarot.

Vegeta glared heatedly at the door, willing it to open and let in a mystery woman dressed in a blue and white striped dress. The blind date had been set up by his meddling buffoon of a soon-to-be-dead cousin, who had gleefully asserted that he needed to “ _meet a girl_ ” so he would “ _lighten up_ ”.

It wasn’t that he was excited for the date, per se. He just didn’t want to admit that he had been foolishly wasting the past half hour or so, waiting for a date that was going to stand him up.

It was inconceivable, and frankly, rather humiliating.

He looked down at his left wrist to check the time again, before picking up his wine flute and knocking back another small gulp. He had half a mind to just order a whole bottle, get himself wasted and just get the hell out of the snooty restaurant.

He turned his glare away from the door again, looking around and half-hoping that there would be a sniper around to just put an end to his misery, when something strange caught his eye.

The woman’s hair was such a peculiar shade of blue.

Vegeta didn’t think he had ever seen hair of such a bright shade. It rather reminded him of a waterfall, one that wildly clashed with the blood red material of her short dress.

He found his gaze drifting downwards, to eye her long, pale legs; a lapse in sanity that he blamed on his utter boredom and festering irritation. 

The man she was with chattered endlessly, and he curiously peeked, noticing that the woman had slumped down on her end of the table and was avidly sipping her drink.

Perhaps, he was not the only one miserable in the entire damn restaurant.

Vegeta stretched, barely suppressing a yawn, before he turned his attention back to the door. The whole night was a pointless waste of time.

 

“…And that is why it is important that a woman stay at home to watch the kids, and the husband be in charge of the finances. You know what I’m saying?”

Bulma yawned behind her hand, rapidly going beyond miffed and well into being pissed off. Seriously, the nerve of this man! Apparently, Kai was not a _real_ nice guy. He was one of those guys who _thought_ themselves nice, eventually revealing the soul of a misogynist, fedora-wearing mansplainer.

That was it. She was _out._

With a wide, sarcastic grin, Bulma stood, lifting her purse. “Excuse me. I need to go to the ladies’ room.”

She turned away, and in her ire, she purposely let him watch as she pointedly walked in the exact opposite direction of the toilets. Along the way, however, her eyes once again fell upon a particular table hosting a solitary, dark-haired man. Before she could really consider a more sensible course of action, Bulma found her steps moving determinedly in that direction.

 

He had completely zoned out, simmering in irritation as he finally accepted that his date was not coming. He had been stood up! His hands were balled into fists on the table, and he was about to wave up at the nearest waiter to get his bill when a wall of red suddenly entered and blocked his line of sight.

A small, pale hand moved quickly across the table, unerringly reaching for his wine flute, swiping it from right under his nose. He shook his head, startled, his eyes widening slightly as he followed the hand that now held his drink.

The flute was lifted up to lush, red lips, and he felt his jaw drop as he watched the whole thing get tilted back, his remaining wine gulped up in a single swallow. The lips then formed into a smirk, and he felt his face redden in outrage as he recognized the woman’s strange blue hair. She sat on the chair across from him, apparently taking his stunned silence as his consent for her to join him.

“You- what the-” he sputtered, staring at her in stunned indignation as she smoothed down the skirt of her red dress and made herself comfortable, nonchalantly placing the empty wine flute back down before him.

She leaned down, elbows on the table, supporting her chin as she smiled wickedly at him. Her low-cut neckline revealed a more than decent amount of cleavage, the round globes made more conspicuous by the round pendant that hung right between her breasts. The sight _very nearly_ distracted him from his righteous fury.

“You have good taste in wine,” she commented, before she lifted her hand to wave at a nearby waiter. “Could you bring us two more glasses of this wine, please? Thank you.”

He stared disbelievingly at her, registering the sound of her voice; at face value, she was loud, and rather obnoxious, but her tone held a small, bell-like inflection that seeped into his ears like honey.

She was smirking at him as he picked his jaw up off the ground, and he blinked, before he felt his brows furrow low over his eyes.

“Who the hell are you, and what do you think you’re doing?” he growled, his ire rising when she did not shrink back in apprehension as expected, but did quite the opposite: her lips spread into a wider grin, her bright blue eyes sparkling mischievously beneath her fringe.

“My name is Bulma,” she chirped, extending a hand to him, holding it out steadily, boldly. He stared heatedly at her dainty hand, realizing that she would not put it down until he caved and reached out to shake it.

He did so petulantly, clasping her hand in his, and as he did, he noted that her touch was warm, rather warmer than he would have expected. It was surprisingly foreign, infusing their first contact with a shockingly memorable sensation that made his eyes go wide.

She felt something too, it seemed, as her eyes diverted momentarily to their joined hands before darting back to look into his. She was an attractive woman, he would give her that, with pinkish cheeks and well-proportioned features, and an overabundance of arrogance to back her up.

“I’m here,” she continued, “to be your date for the evening.”

He stared at her as she pulled her hand back, resting it primly on her lap as the waiter came back with their wine. She thanked him quietly, before turning her attention back to him.

Vegeta was still rather confused, and he lifted his hand to point dumbly at the equally-stunned man that she had left behind. “Your date is over _there.”_

She scoffed. “My _previous date_ was over there. My current date is here.”

He frowned. “And what made you think that I needed a date tonight?”

“Oh please,” she laughed. “You’ve been glaring at the door for the better part of half an hour. Whoever she is, she isn’t coming.”

“What made you think-”

“Unless, it was a _he?”_ she asked, wiggling her brows suggestively. “I mean, there is absolutely nothing wrong if your preferences are-”

He sputtered furiously, feeling his blood rush to his cheeks. “No! I was waiting for a _woman_ , you infuriating-”

“Oh, whew, that’s a relief,” she cut him off. Then, her brows furrowed curiously, before she spoke, “what is your name, by the way?”

“Vegeta,” he answered, before he could think about a wittier response.

“Vegeta,” she nodded. “So, anyway, I came over because I thought, why let your night go to waste, when you can have a beautiful lady – me,” she bats her eyelashes as she shamelessly points a thumb towards herself, “to talk to, instead.”

He felt a twitch begin above his left brow, half a second before he saw the abandoned male get up from his table and begin walking towards them.

The man cleared his throat as he lifted a hand to tap the woman’s bare shoulder. “Um, excuse me-”

Without taking her eyes off Vegeta, she lazily waved him off, and quipped, “You’re excused.”

He looked confused, predictably dumbfounded as he looked between him and the woman. “What is going on? You just left in the middle of our date.”

“Our date is over, and I am on a new one, now,” she replied airily “Oh and thank you so much for taking care of the bill, very kind of you.”

“The bill-”

“The man should take care of the finances, isn’t that what you said?” she asked, and Vegeta almost smirked at the clearly falsely-innocent widening of her eyes. “The receptionist over there should be able to bill you out, now. Have a nice evening!”

The other man just sputtered, mystified; Then, with a frustrated scowl, he turned away, going over to the reception and slamming down a few cash bills, before leaving the restaurant in an insulted huff.

“Now, where were we?” she asked, clearly unaffected.

He had to admit, he was rather impressed by how much of a bitch she could be, while still looking for all the world like she was the most innocent woman in the entire establishment.

“You were bragging, unprovoked, about how _beautiful_ you are,” he responded. “Right after stealing my damn drink and somehow finagling my name out of me.”

“Well, a first date involves getting to know each other, right?” she winked, taking a sip of her wine. She brightened, looking into the purplish red liquid. “This really _is_ good, I should ask the waiter which brand this is.”

“How _forward_ of you,” he said, “to assume that we are on a first date.”

Her fingers flew up to futilely cover her smirk. “The two of us are sitting across from each other, in a really nice restaurant, and you are talking to me of your own free will. This. Is. A _date_ ,” she asserted. She then lifted her wine flute again, taking a relaxed sip, before she continued, “You could get up and leave me all alone here, if you really don’t wanna stay.”

He weighed his options. He could either stay and make pointless small talk with this conniving little witch, and rightly brag the following day about how he had been able to make it through an entire evening with a rather attractive woman; _or_ , he could stand up and leave, and the next day, be forced into admitting that the bitch that Kakarot had set him up with had not shown-up, leaving him to look like a complete fool.

The first option was the less embarrassing, less emasculating one.

Not to mention, she really _was_ quite striking – this, he admitted with utmost resentment – and was proving interesting enough as she brazenly wormed her way into his evening.

Mind made up, Vegeta sat back, crossed his arms before his chest, and raised a brow. “Alright then, _date,”_ he said. “What next?”

“We order food, obviously,” she responded, hailing the waiter again. The waiter then approached, two large menu cards in hand, and the woman calmly reached for one and began silently perusing the options.

He made no objections as the waiter handed him his own menu card, but he didn’t even glance down at it as he continued to watch the woman go about choosing her food, perfectly placid and comfortable in her hijacked date night.

She ordered a serving of salmon, before turning to him with a brow raised in question. He blanched, quickly looking through the menu, and deciding to go for the first item that his gaze landed on, a large serving of steak. As he rattled off his order, he realized that in all his aggravation, he had somehow managed to work up an appetite.

He sipped his wine as he waited, watching the woman fidget slightly with her purse. A smirk worked its way onto his lips as he realized, for the first time, that the woman may not be as completely arrogant as she presented. However, she had somehow managed to muster up enough blind confidence to leave an unappealing male, and go up to him, a random stranger, instead.

She was a woman who knew what she wanted, and could go so far as to forego common decency, so she can have her way.

_That_ , he had to admit… was _hot._

Bulma looked up and was surprised to find an amused smile playing at her impromptu date’s lips. She sat stunned for a second, taking in exactly how unforgivably _handsome_ the man was, especially up close.

His eyes – _damn_ , those _eyes_ – were as dark as a starless night; The small, reluctant grin on his lips lightened up his features, giving him the aura of a grimly entertained monarch.

Seriously though… What kind of stupid woman stood _that_ up?!

She found herself at a loss for words, feeling the blood rushing up into her cheeks as she looked down and discreetly cleared her throat. Her heart was beating fast, and she gathered her wits about her before facing him again. She plastered a bright smile on her face as he raised a brow at her, a mischievous glint in his eyes.

“I suppose, being on this date with you will not be the worst way to end my night,” he said.

Bulma grinned, crossing her legs under the table as she leaned over, making sure to give him an eyeful of her _womanly_ _charms._ She rested an elbow on the table while the other hand circled the rim of her glass.

“The _end_ of your night?” she asked, cheekily quirking her brow up at him. “I don’t think so. This date with me, is just the beginning.”

8-8-8-8-8

_To be continued…_


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Vegeta and Bulma begin to learn more about each other. Much to their mutual surprise, the night turns out to be much more exciting than either had expected.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello again! Thank you all for your lovely response to the first chapter.  
> This chapter will feature art from the lovely [Tepepany](%E2%80%9C)!  
> Thanks again to Blacksheep115 and Bitchytimemachine for being the best betas anyone could ever ask for.  
> I hope you all like this update!

_([Art](https://twitter.com/SGreeneArt/status/1124306217235558400) by [Tepepany](https://twitter.com/SGreeneArt))_

 

8-8-8-8-8

 

Vegeta sat back on his chair, a smirk on his lips as he quirked a brow at the woman before him.

“Well,” he began. “I suppose we should begin, then.”

She nodded as she took another small sip of her wine. “A sensible man. I like you better than the previous guy, already.”

He looked over her head, peering over at the waiter and trying to gauge how long it would take for their food to arrive. The woman snorted, and he looked back at her in question.

“Impatient for your food, I see,” she observed.

“I have had a very shitty day,” he complained. “I am tired, and frankly, I am hungry.”

“Well, my day was fine until I came to this stupid blind date,” she answered.

That surprised him. He crossed his arms before his chest as he asked, “A blind date? You as well?”

“Oh, you too?”

He scoffed. “My cousin set me up. He told me that a _nice evening_ with a woman would cheer me up.”

“Obviously, it didn’t work.”

He gave her a long, withering glare. “I wanted no part in this ridiculous circus, but I owed him a favor, and this was what he wanted me to do for him.”

“We are in very similar situations, then,” she said, crinkling her nose in clear distaste as she sat back, one hand on her lap while the other fiddled with her necklace. “My best friend set me up by calling in a favor. She said I was getting grouchy in my singleness. Hah! As if.”

“Did she not think that perhaps, setting you up with that man would have made you even grouchier?” he jibed.

The woman just smirked, leaning forward once again. “Oh, believe me, what you saw earlier was not me being grouchy. That was me trying to be nice. If you wanna see me grouchy, you should see me at work.”

“And what is it that you do,” he asked, before he frowned slightly, “Bulma, was it?”

 

Bulma smiled, then nodded. Her name sounded strangely compelling in Vegeta’s deep voice, his lips molding the syllables around a sneer… And she found that she _liked_ it.

What she also found that she liked, was the fact that this man seemed to have no inkling of who she was. She was well-known in her field, so she almost never needed to even say her name anymore. Having to introduce herself was refreshing, and she was intrigued by the indifferent but inquisitive air in his conversation with her.

“That’s my name,” she nodded, taking another sip of wine to stall as she thought quickly of how to most easily describe her job. She finally answered with, “I am a researcher.”

Researcher. That was probably the least complicated way to refer to what it was that she did for a living. “And you?”

“I’m a lawyer,” he answered, to which, her smile widened.

“That’s a pretty interesting profession,” she mused, swirling her drink in her glass. “Must be fun, getting to be in court and all.”

“Tch. Hardly,” he said. “I am in corporate law. It is not as exciting as I had once believed it would be. It is more on exploring legal loopholes and drafting contracts.”

She pursed her lips in thought as she took stock of him, of the intimidating stance and the not-quite-friendly disposition, and asked, “You never thought to go the criminal route?”

He smirked evilly, and Bulma felt a small shiver crawl up her spine at the glee that now shone in his eyes. He leaned forward on his elbows to level with her stare, wickedly quirking a brow as he answered, “Let us just say that I had enough of an exposure to the criminal world, that I never want to even glance at it ever again.”

She grinned at the clear message, delighted by the thought that the inarguably hot man before her had gone through a _bad boy_ phase. “A man with a dark past. I like that.”

“You wouldn’t like knowing what it was that I used to do,” he leered, picking up his wine and taking a hefty gulp.

“Oh, but I would,” she answered, feeling her grin widen. “A hot guy with a sordid background? What more could a girl look for in a first date?”

A short bark of laughter answered her, and he shook his head before leaning back against his chair again. “I have heard that some women like their men to be a bit _bad,_ but to be entertained by the thought of my possible criminal background seems rather absurd.”

She shrugged. “Hey, you’re a professional now. So I’m sure that no matter how bad you may have been, you’ve left that life behind, long ago.”

He opened his mouth to answer but movement from behind her stopped him, and she suspected, from the suddenly excited gleam in his eyes, that their dinner was about to arrive.  Sure enough, a few moments later, their waiter appeared with a small cart carrying their dinner, as well as another couple of wine flutes.

She smiled amusedly as his eyes zoomed in on the food, trying and failing to be discrete about how avidly he was staring at the large cut of steak that was laid out before him. The waiter had barely turned around when Vegeta picked up his utensils, and began to dig in.

“ _Quite a healthy appetite,”_ she thought as she let her eyes rove over him once more, hiding an appreciative hum behind her fork as she too began to eat.

He was exquisitely-built, with a wide chest and large, thick arms. He was insanely fit, and she could easily tell that this was a man who fastidiously exercised or engaged in rigorous sports.

She swallowed her first bite of salmon before asking, “So, do you work out?”

Vegeta looked up at her, gulped his mouthful, then smirked.

Bulma watched incredulously as he straightened, then, right before her eyes, he made his thick pectorals _jump._

“Oh!” she exclaimed, eyes wide as she felt her cheeks heat up. That was definitely _not_ something that she saw everyday!

“I believe that answers your question?” he said with a wide, impossibly conceited smirk, his narrow eyes slitted in amusement. With a last quirk of his brow, he chuckled darkly before returning to his dinner.

“It sure does,” she said, lightly shaking her head as she chuckled at his arrogance. “Loved the demo.”

“I go to the gym every other day,” he answered. “This shall also be my answer once you decide to ask what it is that I do for fun.”

“Gotcha,” she said, turning her attention back to her meal. “Well, in case you wanna know, I read for fun. I go dancing on some weekends.”

Bulma frowned, trying to think of what else she did that could possibly be interesting to this man, and she was startled to realize that she really wanted him to _like_ her. She had never had to work hard for a man to be interested in her, and the light challenge of finding a way to connect with him was an irresistible thrill that had her both excited and nervous at the same time.

However, what popped into her mind to tell him about was a peculiar little interest that usually scared men off. She weighed her options, debating whether or not she should tell him, before deducing that… if he had a dark past, surely this unknown tidbit regarding her personal life should at least amuse him somewhat?

_“Oh what the heck?”_ she thought, before deciding to go for it.

“Sometimes,” she began, feigning nonchalance while watching him from the corner of her eye. “I go to the shooting range to shoot a few rounds.”

Vegeta looked up, brows raised in mild surprise. “You like guns?”

She nodded. “I’ve been shooting since I was twelve.”

He paused in his meal, placing his utensils down as he looked back at her; she did not miss the appraising look in his eye before he spoke, “I suppose, looking at you, I can see your predilection for it.”

Bulma raised a brow at him as she looked up. “Meaning?”

“Meaning,” he clarified, “that you do not exactly strike me as the type who stays home and enjoys quiet and simple hobbies.”

“There is a type?”

“You have to keep in mind that I am a lawyer,” he answered. “I deal with people. There is a lot I can tell, just by looking at a person. And I can tell that you are not exactly a _docile_ woman. The fact that you enjoy guns is not shocking, no matter how unconventional it may be.”

“And… do you find anything wrong with that? In a woman who shoots guns for fun?” she asked, suddenly uneasy. She was inexplicably nervous, her heart pounding against her sternum, and she absentmindedly fiddled with her necklace, her restless fingers searching for something to do as she awaited his answer.

“Not at all,” he said. “Some men like cooking. Some women like martial arts. It’s simply a matter of what you enjoy doing.”

Bulma nearly sagged in relief as she watched him simply get back to eating, his face and tone devoid of the judgment or disbelief that she had gotten used to. Her hands fell back onto the table, lightly gripping her utensils as she began to eat again.

Vegeta was… really something else.

“I myself used to enjoy metalwork,” he spoke again, much to Bulma’s surprise. She did not really expect him to continue with small talk on his own.

“Really?” she asked. “What had you been making?”

“Small trinkets,” he answered vaguely, and Bulma thought she saw a small twinge of evasiveness in the way his shoulders stiffened slightly.

“I like fine details,” he continued. He glanced up at her for a moment, his eyes narrowing on something below her neck. “That necklace that you are wearing. The craftsmanship is quite good.”

She looked down, realizing with a tiny bit of disappointment that he in fact had _not_ been staring thoughtfully at her breasts, as her hand flew up to clasp her pendant. “Thanks!”

 

“Is it custom-made?” he asked, truly curious. He didn’t miss how often her hands moved to touch the necklace, and he idly wondered if it held any special significance to her.

His eyes flitted momentarily to his watch, glancing at the small red emblem that replaced the “12” at the top of the watch face. He knew personally, what it was like to own a seemingly mundane accessory that held much significance to the wearer.

“I found it in a small silver shop near my home,” she answered. “I found it cute, because it’s a dream catcher, but it kind of looks like an atom in the center. See?”

She lifted the pendant up to him, and Vegeta noted that the rounded part of the dream catcher necklace _did_ resemble the typical illustrations for an atom, with narrow oval loops that intersected in a small circle in the center, where a deep red gem sparkled brightly under the subdued lighting of the room.

“Also, I guess,” she continued, “I just thought that it stood for a lot of things that I have going on right now.”

“What may those things be, if I may ask?”

She sighed softly. “Well, first… I live a comfortable life, and I enjoy things that other people could only dream about. Not to brag, but I have a rather successful career, and I am happy with that. Still, I have to remind myself that I am more than my resumé. I still have more dreams that I have to chase, and I wish that someday, I could just grasp those dreams,” she clutches the pendant in her palm, “and like this little bauble, hold them in my hands.”

Vegeta nodded, understanding. He knew firsthand, that money could only get you so far. Respect, even fear, could earn you peace, but not… happiness.

And as he listened to the sound of her voice – strangely sad and far away –Vegeta felt his brows furrow as he realized that the cheerful woman before him was hiding something pained behind her smiles. Something that _he_ felt deeply within himself, as well…

This woman… felt alone.

 

Bulma looked up at the handsome man before her, letting her fingers linger on her pendant for one last moment before she dropped it. She smiled secretly up at him, then silently took another sip of wine.

She was not about to tell Vegeta that what she had always wanted, since she was a little girl, was to find her “Prince”.

That elusive boy that was every girl’s dream… The so-called Prince Charming who would make her fall in love, then take her hand and lead her to his palace of gold.

Her idea of the perfect boyfriend had not been the most conventional, but she knew that not just anyone would do. She wanted a boy who would love her and believe that she was the prettiest girl in the world. He would never look at anyone else, the way he would look at her.

He had to be smart, quick; She wanted someone who could be kind of rude but exciting, and would be her superhero if she ever needed him to be there for her.

As she began to grow older, she started to realize that what she ultimately wished for, was a man who wanted to be _with_ her; someone who would move mountains to see her.

And mostly, she wanted a man who would understand her.

Bulma knew she was a bit odd, her interests varied and incoherent, and she wanted someone who would find her interesting enough to want to get to know her, and stay with her. She wanted someone whom she could be weird with, and would let her in on his strangest thoughts, as well.

Could Vegeta… be her Prince? Could he be the perfect boyfriend that she had been wishing for all along?

He was certainly _physically_ perfect, the shallow part of her crowed, as she gazed once more at the well-defined muscles on his arms. He was smart, rather arrogant, but he had so far put up with the little oddities that she had shared with him, and she got to thinking…

Maybe she should see if there was more to this guy who got stood up by his date.

They ate in surprisingly comfortable silence for a few more minutes, during which, each tried to discretely take short glances of each other.

A few times, their eyes met, and with each instance, Bulma felt her cheeks grow hotter, her hands shaking giddily as she became more and more conscious of every bite she took of her dinner. She childishly wondered if maybe he thought that she took too large bites, or if she had some stray sauce on her chin, and she was getting so overwhelmingly, uncharacteristically flustered that she decided…

She wanted to know more about this man.

“Would you care for some desert?” he asked suddenly.

Bulma grinned behind her hand, before she looked up to face him. He was staring intensely down at the table, and Bulma could swear that she could see a dark flush creeping over his cheeks and the tip of his nose. He was looking so decidedly hopeful that she finally, truly knew, that she could not just let their night end there.

 “I’m not really in the mood for sweets,” she said, and she watched as he flushed further, before he looked away from her completely, a sneer on his lips.

She knew that he thought that she was rejecting him and wanting to cut their date short, so she continued, “But… I would love for you to take me for a walk. If that’s ok?”

 

Vegeta looked up sharply, surprised. He had thought that her refusal of desert was a dismissal, and he was utterly disarmed by her request to go for a walk…

It was a clear invitation for him to stay with her, and take their night a little further.

He did not think that the woman meant anything distinctly… _naughty_ , if the hesitant glint in her eye was any indication. However, it meant that she wanted to stay with him longer, and Vegeta found that… acceptable.

He grinned, raising a hand to hail the waiter, making a small gesture to ask for their bill.

She was clearly growing nervous, as he quietly slipped some cash into the small leather folder. Vegeta made a show of nodding at the waiter as he picked up their payment, no doubt excited by the sight of the rather sizeable tip that had been left for him.

After all, the wine really had been excellent.

And Vegeta was in a good mood, tonight.

He stood up, slowly stretching out, noting the way that the woman’s eyes roamed rapidly over his frame as she saw him in his entirety for the first time.

He looked good, and he knew it.

Yet, he deemed it was time to end the girl’s suffering, and he reached out a hand, palm up, smirking as her eyes widened for a fraction of a second.

She looked up, and Vegeta felt his own heart stutter quickly as their gazes met. Her red lips were curved into a small, shy smile, but her blue eyes sparkled in a mixture of glee and mischief. Her pale skin was smoother than porcelain, seeming almost luminescent around the deep red dress that soothed her every curve in a reverent caress.

He grinned, pulling her up from her chair until she stood straight before him, before finally speaking, “Let us go for that walk, shall we?”

The woman grinned back, lacing her fingers with his. He led her out, until they finally stood beneath the brightly sparkling stars of a suspiciously cheerful night sky.

8-8-8-8-8

_To be continued…_


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A leisurely stroll along the city... an unforgettable date night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello again everyone! Thank you for your feedback on the first two chapters, I am very happy that you all seemed to have enjoyed the story so far! Now, here is Chapter 3.  
> Along with this chapter is art based on events in Chapter 1, done by [Rucifie](%E2%80%9C)!

 

_([Art](https://rucifiesart.tumblr.com/post/184772838940/a-little-late-and-a-little-chaotic-but-its) by [Rucifie](https://rucifiesart.tumblr.com/))_

 

8-8-8-8-8

 

“Did you have any places in mind?”

“Hmm?” Bulma asked, distracted by the steady warmth of his fingers as they tangled gently with hers.

They had left the restaurant a few minutes ago, walking away from it at a leisurely pace. They found themselves enjoying a comfortable silence, wandering peacefully with each other with no real destination in mind.  

She smiled as she noted the slight irritation in her impromptu date’s pout, and bumped her hip against his as she muttered, “Not really. You?”

“I am not from around here,” he said. “I do not really know much about the area.”

“So why did you choose to have your date here?” she asked, curious. Their feet were taking them along as they went, heading aimlessly into the direction of people, as if they had a destination that neither of them understood.

“My blasted date chose the place, as it was close to her. I just took a cab,” he said. “Who would think that she would have the gall to stand me up?”

“Maybe she forgot?” Bulma joked, elbowing him lightly in the ribs.

He scoffed, insulted. “I do not think that I like the insinuation that I am a _forgettable_ person.”

Ah, there it was. Pride. Bulma knew it was there in abundance, and as much as it would probably be fun to poke and prod at it all night, she refrained, choosing to keep the discussion light. “Well, she didn’t know about you yet, did she? If she had taken one look at you, I doubt she would have forgotten about you at all.”

He sniffed, apparently mollified, for the moment. “And what about you? Are you from nearby?”

She shook her head. “Not really. When the date was set, this place was chosen because it was neutral territory for us both. I came here in my car.”

“Did you leave it at the restaurant?”

“Nope,” she said, patting her purse. “I have it in a capsule.”

He turned to her, brow quirked. “A capsule? One of those cars capable of being compacted into pocket-sized packs?” he clarified. “You own one of those? Impressive. I thought they were not yet market-ready and still under beta-testing.”

“I… uh… kinda have easy access to them because of my research,” she said, grimacing a bit at having to allude to her profession. However, his apparent interest in the capsulized cars that she was helping work on piqued her curiosity, and she asked, “Would you be interested in one once they go into the market?”

“Of course,” he replied. “A car that will not require a parking lot? I would save so much on parking space payments.”

“You’d never have to get lost in a car park going ‘dude, where’s my car’-”

“I can drive to the very front of my office building, instead of having to walk from the malodorous parking garage.”

Bulma threw her head back, unable to hold back her laughter at Vegeta’s disgruntled comment. He was grimacing, and Bulma squeezed his hand as she giggled, imagining him walking through a stinky parking garage with the exact same disgusted look.

She watched as his lips turned up into a reluctant smile, and soon enough, he was chuckling along with her. He shook his head once, casting a glance her way. As their eyes met, Bulma felt her laughter stall in her chest, and she cleared her throat, finding it hard to look away from the dark depth of his gaze.

His eyes fascinated her endlessly, making her wonder about how such a brooding stare could carry so much _meaning._ She could tell he was amused, begrudgingly so, and she smiled back at him, hoping that her own face could let him see what she was beginning to understand within herself…

Bulma really, _really_ liked this man.

They may have had a strange start, but perhaps that was the charm of it. He was something that she had taken a chance in, possessed by a strange flight of fancy that made her reckless enough to step out of her rather small comfort zone to satisfy her inexplicable interest.

He was attractive, intelligent… _Trendy._ He carried his suit like a mannequin would, the tailored material falling seamlessly down his form. It didn’t even matter to her that he was of slightly below average height. He exuded a radioactive sort of confidence that made him seem larger than life to her, and Bulma felt her blood rushing to her face, heating up her cheeks as she noticed his discrete perusal of her.

Maybe he liked her, too?

She squealed internally even as she berated herself for how juvenile her line of thinking was, rather mortified that she was, at her age, fawning over a man like a teenager would swoon over a celebrity crush.

However, as much as she berated herself over her uncharacteristic giddiness, she felt a fissure of excitement crawl up her spine as she realized that she had never, _ever_ , felt this way before.

Still, she had to pull herself together. From what she could tell, one of the reasons why she had been able to capture his interest in the first place was because she was no push over… She was _interesting_. She had to show him who she truly was, and not turn into a girlish simpleton over his damn good looks.

Bulma knew… she _cannot_ afford to screw this up.

 

 

Her touch was warm… electric. Vegeta tried his hardest to keep his eyes on the path ahead, fighting the strange impulse to keep glancing at the woman beside him. She was certainly… _different_ , and he would be damned if he would start acting like a fool, just because he was intrigued by her smart mouth and bright blue hair.

It was only then that he noticed their unintended destination. He blinked, brows furrowing, before he glanced back at her, confused. “Bulma?”

“Yeah?” she asked.

He had to take a short inhale as the airy, careless lilt of her voice beckoned to him. She seemed to be so comfortable with him, so natural, and Vegeta felt a distinct skip in his chest as he looked closely at her serene expression.

He cleared his throat, strangely excited by her proximity, by how she so easily molded herself to his side. He realized quickly that in truth, he would not mind keeping her with him like that for a while… or maybe even longer.

“Do you realize where we are?” he asked, and he smirked in amusement when she too looked up.

“Is this… is this an arcade?”

He nodded. “This is certainly unconventional.”

“Well, what the heck,” she said. “Let’s go in!”

With a shrug, he let her pull him along by the hand, walking into the large, extremely noisy area and finding themselves in the middle of an open hall full of different gaming machines manned by screaming teenagers.

They were, needless to say, completely and utterly out of place and overdressed, and they received more than a few curious stares from other nearby customers as they walked in.

“What the hell are we going to do here?” he asked, lips pursed in impatience when the crazy woman let go of him to run over to a large console of what looked like a fighting game.

She turned back to him then, a wide grin lighting up her whole face, and Vegeta lost all traces of his ire when she reached forward to pull him by the hand.

“I used to play this game when I was young!” she said loudly, raising her voice so he could hear her over the noise of the games and people surrounding them.

He glanced dumbly at the large, loud machine, before looking curiously over to his smiling date. “I have never heard of it,” he half-yelled.

Her eyes grew wide. “What? You’ve never played Fighter Z? Oh, we _have_ to fix that!”

She then proceeded to rummage through the purse slung over her shoulder, pulling open a small pocket that held a few coins. She brandished two half-zeni coins in her hand, inserting them both into two slots at the top of the machine. “Take player 2!” she instructed.

He took the joystick in his hand, grimacing at the damp plastic, and soon, he found himself perusing player options out of the several characters on the screen. Bulma selected a female character with short black hair, dressed in black shorts and an oversized white shirt. Vegeta picked a large, scary-looking bald man wearing black padded armor over strange short leotards.

When the game started, it didn’t take long for his date to completely obliterate him. He stared, irritated at the taunting message that declared his clear defeat while Bulma hopped around in her heels in glee.

“Dude, you _suck!_ ” she teased, her eyes flashing in her victory. “Maybe we should go find something else-”

“The hell we will!” he yelled, scrambling to find coins within his own pockets, and inserting them into the proper slots. There was no way that he was walking away from that infernal machine defeated. “Start another game!”

He had always prided himself on being a fast learner, and soon enough, they were evenly matched. When the machine finally boomed out that he had defeated Bulma by a fatality, Vegeta actually let out a loud _whoop_ , pumping his fists in the air.

“Who sucks _now,_ woman?!” he jeered, before turning smugly to his opponent.

However, he was unable to continue gloating when, as their gazes met, he found her light blue eyes sparkling merrily at him as a light pink flush coated her cheeks. Her ruby lips were spread into a wide, excited grin, and the happiness that he found in her smile completely stole his breath away and made his heart beat twice as fast.

Blinded by her radiance, he could not look away…

Unthinking, he reached out, gently brushing away the bangs that had fallen into her eyes. He felt his cheeks heat up as he realized what he had done, but his embarrassment at his oddly tender act all but disappeared at the feel of the silky strands along the tips of his fingers.

He watched her eyes widen marginally as her entire face softened into a wistful little smile, and he felt her hand shyly touch the back of his, gently pressing his palm onto her cheek. Yet, her touch was quick, much too short, and as she let go, he let his hand fall back to his side, ignoring the tingling sensation that remained on the center of his palm from where he had momentarily caressed her skin.

She then nodded her head in the direction of the exit, and he followed her as she quickly made her way through the thick group of people, her purse slung carelessly over her shoulder. She walked with a wraith-like grace that had him near-mesmerized, and he found his gaze travelling down to where her shapely hips swayed with every step she took.

At the back of his mind, Vegeta recalled reading about a study that claimed that it took men only 8.2 seconds to fall in love. If he stared at her any longer than he was supposed to, he was sure that those 8.2 seconds would come to pass, tonight.

 

 

“ _What just happened?!_ ” Bulma thought as she turned away from Vegeta, walking out of the arcade with her back to him to hide the furious blush that she could feel taking over her cheeks.

His hand on her face was so soft, so gentle, that she felt like porcelain beneath his touch. His enthusiasm as they played the silly old video game made her feel like a child again, and she thought about how, all throughout the night, his smirks and arrogant little jabs had made her feel… alive.

He made her feel all sorts of nice things, and she wanted _more._

Trying to distract herself, Bulma walked faster, hearing him walking just a few paces behind her. She was looking for something to do, something a bit silly to keep her mind off of her ridiculously quick attraction to him. If she had just a few minutes of clarity, she could better understand what was going on.

She was a scientist, for heaven’s sake. She couldn’t very well just jump into an irrational crush on a man that she had met literally less than two hours ago.

She turned a corner into a slightly darker alley, and found three noisy teen boys who were spraying paint on a large back wall. It appeared that they had been painting random letters, and Bulma, seized by the same short-sighted impulse that she had been coasting on all night, called out.

“Hey!” she called, and she felt Vegeta’s hand fall on her shoulder in warning as she waved at the boys.

“Woman, what are you-”

“Don’t worry!” she said to him, before turning back to the kids. She called out loudly, “I will give you one hundred zeni for those paint cans!”

Eyes widening at the prospect of money, the boys ran over, excitedly handing the cans to Vegeta as she pulled a few bills from her purse.

“Thanks, lady!” One of them said, as he motioned to the wall. “There’s a couple more there, take them all.”

“I will!” she beamed, taking Vegeta by the arm and pulling him towards the wall.

“What do you think you’re doing, woman?” he asked as Bulma stooped down to pick up a can of blue spray paint.

“I just thought we could try our hands at street art!” she said, shaking the can before quickly spraying a long, vertical line of paint along the center of the wall.

She had just finished writing a large blue letter “B” when Vegeta’s hand caught hers, and she looked back to find his brows furrowed above hesitantly amused eyes.

“Are you seriously intending on writing your name?” he asked, a wry grin tugging at his lips again. “That is not a very smart thing to do.”

“Huh, you’re right,” she said, a finger scratching the tip of her nose as she thought of what to write. “Oh, I know!”

She began spraying again, and as she finished, she stood back, beaming at her work.

Vegeta looked completely amused now, as he asked. “B and V?”

“Yes!” She answered. “For Bulma and Vegeta!”

“Why couldn’t you have written the V before the B?”

“Alphabetical, duh,” she commented. “I was thinking of writing a D and N after, too.”

“B.V.D.N. What would that stand for?” he asked, placing two of the cans down on the curb, keeping the red paint can in his hand.

“Bulma, Vegeta, Date Night!” she answered enthusiastically.

“Why don’t you just leave it at BV?” he said, as he too began shaking his own can. “And let’s fill this wall with whatever else we wanna draw on it?”

She felt her smile widen as Vegeta pulled his sleeves back and started spraying, an unholy glee lighting up his eyes as he drew a large, inverted arc with arrows at each edge. Bulma giggled as she realized that he may have done this in the past, back during his renegade years that he had hinted at over dinner.

She put the blue paint down and picked up a bright green one, painting on a cartoonish dragon with a long tail. Vegeta had drawn a large red symbol with three arrows pointing upward from a single point above the inverted arch, and both looked at each other with similar looks of mischief as they began grabbing at the remaining cans of paint.

She laughed when she heard Vegeta swear as he got paint on his pants, making him turn to her with narrowed eyes. He then aimed his spray at her, and Bulma squealed, running away as he threatened to douse her in paint.

Standing farther from the wall than she previously had been, Bulma was finally able to see exactly what the two of them had done. Apart from her lettering and the dragon, she had drawn stars, circles and hearts, while Vegeta had drawn the large red symbol and what looked like a round, cartoonish space ship.

“What a masterpiece!” she said, to which Vegeta smirked. “I am sure that this art will be preserved for years to come!”

“Yes, but perhaps we should begin getting rid of the evidence,” he answered, dusting his hands off his pants as he looked around for the nearest trash disposal.

They found one across the street, beside a small pathway leading into what looked like a lake-view park. They picked up the now-empty cans, throwing them into the bin.

It was as Bulma was watching Vegeta dispose of the last of the paint cans that she happened to glance at his hands, and her eyes caught sight of the watch that he had been glaring into when she first saw him in the restaurant. In the light, she saw a familiar red symbol, and she looked back at their painted wall, recognizing it instantly.

“Hey, Vegeta,” she began. “That symbol that you drew is the same as the one on your watch!”

He stiffened, and Bulma regretted her question when he suddenly turned away.

She cringed, mortified. It must have been a sore spot, but she had no way of knowing…

“I’m sorry,” she began, reaching for him. “I shouldn’t have mentioned it-”

“It was my family’s seal.”

She pulled her hand back as he turned to face her once again, and she was surprised by the strange fondness that she saw in his eyes.

“My ancestors had been very wealthy,” he explained. “Unfortunately, that wealth had been diminished as the years went on and was not passed down through the next generations. All I have now is an old manor in the far east of the country, and this seal that I learned of through my father.”

Bulma smiled, moving to touch him again, her hand landing on his still exposed arm. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be,” he said, shaking his head. “It was hundreds of years ago and I never knew that life, so I have never felt the loss.”

“But you had inscribed the symbol into your watch, so it must have meant something.”

He shrugged, reaching over to push his sleeves back down his arms. “I did not inscribe it. This watch had been my father’s. The symbol is important to me in that it helps me remember that I was never meant to be a nobody. I am destined for greatness. We may have lost the wealth, but I have it in me to find it again.”

Bulma was surprised when she felt his hand nudge gently on hers, bumping suggestively, until she finally took the hint and opened her hand to let his fingers lace with hers again.

She looked back at him, taking in the mesmerizing darkness of his eyes, the sharp angles of his face… the midnight hair that waved like dangerous flames amidst the coolness of the night. And as he began walking into the peaceful park in front of them, Bulma leaned in, letting her arms brush against his, feeling his warmth against her as she walked by his side.

She knew that the night would begin winding down soon. When he clasped her hand in his warm palm, sending those tingles of excitement through her limbs, Bulma decided that if it were up to her, this happy night with Vegeta was not going to be their last.

 

8-8-8-8-8

 

_To be continued…_


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello everyone!  
> This is the second to the last chapter of Blinded. I hope you all enjoy this update!  
> Special thanks again to Bitchytimemachine and Blacksheep115!  
> Also, for this chapter, we have more art from the talented [Tepepany](%E2%80%9C)!

 

_([Art ](https://twitter.com/SGreeneArt/status/1124306422467002369?s=20)by[Tepepany](https://twitter.com/SGreeneArt/))_

 

8-8-8-8-8

 

“Aren’t you cold?”

She glanced up at him, a brow cocked in question while her fingers slinked delicately in between his. Vegeta impulsively tightened his grip, as if a firmer hold would tether him more effectively against the very real threat of being swept away by her depthless blue gaze.

“Not really, no. Why do you ask?” she asked, before she smirked.  “Were you thinking of offering me your coat?”

“Tch,” he huffed, before he turned away, feeling blood pour into his cheeks while he studiously avoided her teasing eyes. “I just wanted to be sure that you were not going to freeze to death-”

“Aw, I was kidding!” she said, her free hand moving to lightly shake his arm. “Vegeta! I think it’s sweet.”

“Stop patronizing me-”

“I am not!” she laughed, playfully jostling his hand. “Come on! Look at me and ask me again!”

“I would rather not now, as I realized what a ridiculous cliché it would be.”

“Oh stop it you dork,” she stomped softly, pulling him to a stop. “I mean, yeah, it would be, but no one has ever offered me their coat before!”

He blinked, before he did look back at her in surprise. “Are you serious?”

“Well, yeah, because I always brought my own,” she said. “I didn’t really expect to leave the restaurant tonight, so I didn’t bring one, this time.”

He shrugged, still embarrassed, but he gently extricated himself from Bulma’s hold to pull his jacket off. He took a step back, standing slightly behind her as he pulled the thick coat down his arms, smirking at her as she glanced back at him with a smile.

She gave him a wink as he began to lift the coat up, carefully draping it over her thin shoulders. She lifted a hand to hold one of the thick sleeves to herself, and she smiled when he moved back to stand beside her, unsure of what to do next.

Vegeta felt rather awkward, standing still and dumbly at her side, and he had almost decided to turn and walk ahead of her when he felt a small, warm hand clutch his elbow. He glanced down, just in time to see Bulma’s other hand reach for his, lacing her fingers with his once more. It was a sweetly intimate gesture, one that was completely foreign to Vegeta, and he turned his head away in flustered embarrassment when she deliberately leaned her head against his shoulder, a soft hum on her lips.

He cleared his throat, desperately trying to gather his rapidly scattering thoughts. He began to walk again, trying to act natural, even while the feel of her against him burned into every corner of his consciousness.

It wasn’t long before they found themselves standing at a small, empty clearing, where a lone bench sat in the middle of a circle of green grass, illuminated by a nearby streetlamp. He discretely glanced down at the woman’s heels, thinking of all the walking and running that they had done. It was possible that her feet may start to hurt soon, and he slowly stirred her towards the small seat so they could both take a short rest.

Vegeta heard her sigh as she sat down, and he noticed her glance down at her feet and grimace slightly. He grinned, proud of himself for having _called it,_ and he carefully tucked his coat around her tighter before leaning back to look at the sky.

It was a cloudless night, and he knew that if they had been out of the city, there would have been stars filling up the night sky. The city lights blurred out the natural brightness, and he found himself sighing in disappointment at the plain blackness of it all. He wished for the brighter skies of his youth, when he and his father had lived quietly in a small village near the countryside.

“You can’t really see any stars anymore, huh?” Bulma suddenly asked.

He was startled by how much their thoughts then had mirrored each other’s, and he simply frowned, nodding. “I remember when the skies seemed blanketed by stars.”

She sighed, her shoulders lifting very slightly as she took in a deep breath. “When I was younger, I would sneak away from my parents to do some exploring,” she admitted softly. “I would camp out by myself, or sometimes with a friend or two. The skies used to be so bright…”

“As life had used to be so simple,” he added. “Then you grow up, and realize that there are far too many obstacles to your childish dreams.”

“But you work hard anyway,” she said, “Because you know that you can’t let those troubles keep you down, and you know that your happiness is up to you, and you alone.”

He was silent for a while, silently mulling over her words.

Happiness was a myth, to him. It was something that he knew could be attained, but possibly had never really touched, himself.

“At certain times, in the past,” he said quietly, one hand curling as it lay flat on his lap, “I had believed myself to be undeserving of ever being happy.”

 She moved closer to him, her heat pulling him from his rapidly darkening thoughts, the gentle touch of her hand on his clenched fist sending tiny shocks of something wonderful through his entire body. He turned to her, unconsciously placing his hand atop hers.

Vegeta found his gaze drifting to stare avidly at her red lips. With baited breath, he waited for her to speak, to give him the cheerful words that he had come to expect from her. He realized then that, though he actually did not know her at all, a part of him had already come to relate her very presence to something truly _beautiful_ , something that had eluded him for the better part of his existence.

Her mouth curved up into a fond smile, and without breaking their gaze, she shook her head. “Everyone deserves happiness, Vegeta.”

He frowned, but as he did, he felt a sudden finger on his lower lip, silencing his impending, pessimistic comment.

“Maybe, you just haven’t found your true happiness, yet,” she whispered, her hand moving to hesitantly cup his jaw. He watched as her lids fluttered, and her eyes shifted to stare at his lips.

Vegeta could barely breathe, and he found that he could not tear his gaze away from her mouth. His mind was in absolute bedlam but his heart seemed to be calm even as it pounded heavily in his ears. He knew he should resist, but he didn’t dare to fight it when his body moved, leaning closer to her, his hands shaking around her slender fingers.

She was _light_ , shining brighter than the lamp that barely gave justice to her beauty, and with a near helpless inhale, he lifted a hand to her face, letting a single finger run up her cheek.

Her lips parted… and she sat there, eyes wide, breaths shallow… waiting…

Unable to fight it anymore, he leaned in… and a thrill unlike anything he had ever felt before rushed through his very soul as he gently, softly, pressed his lips to hers.

 

Bulma stilled as an eternity of sensation raced through her limbs at the slight touch of his lips. The tentative caress of his mouth, the cautious movements of his hands, sent a shudder that zipped like lightning within her entire body. It was both heady and comforting, like falling through eternity, yet knowing that the clouds would keep you safe from harm.

All of that took place in less than a second, before she closed her eyes and leaned in, moving slowly with his soft kiss. She sighed against him, her fingers flexing needily upon his now upturned palm, and he shyly laced his long fingers with hers as he moved to deepen their contact.

It was slow… sweet. It was a complete contrast to Vegeta’s strong personality, and Bulma couldn’t help but moan softly at the utter delight that filled her as she followed him through this dance.

She had never been kissed liked this… had never been touched so gently and yet so ardently. She let her hand on his jaw move up to slowly delve into the thickness of his hair as she boldly slanted her mouth against his.

She held on to the thick strands as he pulled her closer, wrapping an arm around her waist. She was breathing heavily now, feeling her brows furrow as she focused solely on the feel of him all around her, inhaling deeply of the intoxicating scent of his light cologne as she bathed in his strangely soothing presence. She felt his hand tangle with the tips of her hair as he spread his fingers across her back, and she sighed earnestly, luxuriating in the tender caress that she hoped would never, ever end.

However, much too soon, she felt him begin to pull back. Her lips still puckered longingly, several seconds after he disengaged, and as she opened her eyes, she saw that his dark orbs were still closed while a furious blush coated his cheeks.

When he finally blinked them open, a slightly dazed look clouded his stare before he narrowed his gaze at her. His eyes, darker than she seemed to remember, pierced through her every faculty, and she shook her head free of the cobwebs that filled her mind as she devoured him with her sight.

Her lips still tingled deliciously from his kiss, and she smiled before she very hesitantly pulled away. As she did, she caught sight of his hand on her lap, the one that had his watch on. She noted the time, only then realizing that it was much later than she had thought it would be.

“It’s… getting late,” she whispered, her blood rushing to her face as she realized how hoarse her voice had gone. She cleared her throat, looking away in slight embarrassment.

“Yes, it is,” he muttered, his voice nearly as hoarse, and possibly even softer. “You should head home.”

She nodded, regretfully pulling away. She braced her hands on the bench as she stood, looking around to find a road where she could decapsulize her car.

His hand found hers again, and she watched as he purposely turned away from her, leading her into the main entryway of the park.

When they finally stood at the side walk, Vegeta turned back to her. He locked into her gaze with his sharp eyes once again, and she felt his hand gingerly caressing her arm through the material of his coat.

“Oh! Your coat!” she suddenly remembered, and she began to pull it off her shoulders to hand it back to him.

His hand held her arm firmly, and she looked up, only to find him shaking his head.

“Um, Vegeta-”

“Keep it,” he said. “I will take it back when you have a coat of your own… next time.”

_Next time…?_

A giddy, girlish exhilaration filled her at his words, and she couldn’t even dream of stopping the smile that curved her lips upwards as she asked, “Are you asking me out on a second date?”

“Tch,” he muttered. “I _demand_ one.”

Still smiling, Bulma held her hand out to him. “Give me your phone.”

He pulled his phone out of his pants pocket, unlocked it, and handed it to her.

Bulma’s fingers shook slightly as she excitedly entered her number into his contact list, before she handed it back to him with a wink. “Call me tomorrow?”

He smirked back, pocketing his phone again. “I will.”

She was tempted to lean in to kiss him again, but she refrained, keeping her attention on her purse so she can find the capsule. When she did, she tossed it onto the ground before him, materializing her red sports car.

She laughed when she heard Vegeta give a low whistle at her nice new ride, and she winked at him again as she got in.

He raised a hand in a small wave goodbye as she drove away, her heart light, happier than she could remember being in years.

She couldn’t _wait_ until the next date.

 

8-8-8-8-8

“Erm… Hey, Vegeta?”

Vegeta looked up, a residual grin on the edges of his lips as he found his cousin, Kakarot, staring concernedly at him. “What?”

“Are you… alright?” the taller man asked, a hand swiping back the unruly bangs that were seemingly poking out his eyes.

“Yes,” he answered. “Any reason why I wouldn’t be?”

“Well, after last night…” Kakarot said. “I was gonna say sorry-”

“No harm, no foul, Kakarot,” he answered as he stood, patting his cousin’s back as he walked past him. “Last night went fine.”

“So… you’re not mad at me? Or Krillin?”

“Not at all, why would I be?”

“See… I’m kinda scared coz you’ve been _smiling,_ ” Vegeta heard Kakarot say, and he snorted at the younger man’s unease. “I was nervous that you were plotting revenge or something.”

“Revenge? Not this time,” he answered with a smirk, which somehow made Kakarot look even _more_ afraid.

He had been in a spectacularly good mood all day, and he found that his uncharacteristically grinning face kept his colleagues even more nervous around him. They thus left him alone, which made his day even _better._

He had resolved to call the woman as soon as he got home after work, and he held his phone in his hand as he headed for his car, barely restraining himself from calling right then. He drove back to his one-bedroom apartment with a whistle on his lips, unable to believe how good his previous night and his entire day had gone.

Things never went _that_ well for Vegeta.

As soon as he reached his home and had locked the door behind him, he whipped up his phone, and looked in his contacts. There it was, in all caps, the name “Bulma”, followed by a winking emoji.

With a fond shake of his head, he pressed the call button, waiting for the line to ring.

However, all he heard was a beep, before a robotic voice spoke: “Sorry, the number you have dialed is incorrect.”

“What the hell?” he asked aloud in confusion, before trying again.

When all he got was the same result, he pressed on the contact entry, to see for himself if there was anything wrong with the usual ten-digit mobile phone number.

Bulma ;) [9-1-7-8-3-1-5-0-5]

Wait a second…

He froze, staring at the number again…

_9-1-7-8-3-1-5-0-5_

Nine digits.

_Nine. Digits._

Vegeta could feel the blood drain from his face as he stared at his screen in horror.

It would seem that in the woman’s excitement, she had mistakenly left out _one_ digit of her mobile number.

Nine. Goddamn. Digits.

He just couldn’t ever have anything go right, could he?

He furiously threw his phone onto his couch, hands clenched into fists as he threw his head back in a scream.

“Goddamn _mother_ _fu_ -”

 

8-8-8-8-8

 

_To be concluded…_


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Vegeta goes on a mad search to find the missing digit... but ends up with more than what he bargained for. Will he hesitate, or will he embrace the chance of a happily ever after with the woman who had stolen his night and quite possibly, his heart?  
> The conclusion of Blinded.

Vegeta tapped his foot with increasing impatience as the line began to ring for the seventh time. By the time a sleepy, clearly confused voice finally answered, he impatiently barked out, “Krillin!”

“Wuh… Hello? Vegeta?”

“Are you asleep already? It’s not even eleven,” he hissed. “Wake up and talk to me, you lazy bald bastard.”

A beat of silence greeted his statement, before his long-time work contact started laughing nervously on the other line.

“Oh wait a second,” Krillin said, to which, Vegeta could just picture the small man yanking uncomfortably at the collar of his shirt. “I know what this is about.”

“You… what?” Vegeta asked, dumbfounded.

“Look, sorry man, I really didn’t mean to,” Krillin said. “I had no idea!”

Vegeta blinked, before his brows furrowed low over his eyes, his teeth grinding in his irritation. “What the hell are you talking about?”

Another moment of silence from the other line made Vegeta bristle, and he was about to scream when Krillin suddenly spoke again.

“I… don’t know?” Krillin half-asked. “What are _you_ talking about?”

Vegeta snarled, but decided against pursuing the rapidly derailing conversation. “You know what, I don’t care. I need you to find something for me.”

“Oh, is that all?”

“What _else_ could I possibly want from a private eye like you, at eleven in the _goddamned_ evening?” Vegeta finally yelled.

“Ok, ok, jeeze,” Krillin said. “What do you need my skills for, Vegeta?”

“I need you to find someone’s private mobile number.”

“And this couldn’t wait until I woke up?”

“No. It’s urgent,” Vegeta said. “I need to call this person immediately. I have a part of the number but I am missing a digit.”

“Alright, gimme what you got.”

Vegeta rattled off the infuriatingly incomplete contact number, grinding his teeth while he waited for Krillin to repeat it all back to him.

“Ok, got it. Now, what’s the name of this person?” Krillin asked.

Vegeta stilled. This was where it was about to get strange.

“Bulma,” he muttered, knowing that it was much too soft to be heard.

“I’m sorry, what?”

“Bulma!” he snarled. “Her name is Bulma.”

The loud, hysterical laughter coming from the other line made him see red, but he just clutched his phone tighter against his ear, fighting the urge to run over to the other man’s apartment so he could choke him with his bare hands. He wanted to throw the phone away and scream, but decided against it, waiting for Krillin’s ungodly amusement to wane.

“Yo, let me get this straight,” Krillin said as his laughter finally died down to small chuckles. “This is the number of a _woman?”_

Vegeta sighed. “Yes.”

“A woman gave you her number, outside of work, and you lost it?”

“Go to hell, Krillin, it was her damn fault,” he protested. “She put the wrong number in.”

“Are you _sure_ that she didn’t _mean_ to put the wrong number in?”

“I am _extremely_ sure,” Vegeta answered, bristling at the insinuation that the woman would purposely ditch him _._ “Now, can you do it or not?!”

“Of course I can!” Krillin answered. “Do you have her last name?”

“…No.”

Krillin snorted, and Vegeta pictured himself squeezing the detective’s tiny bald head in between his palms.

“I can still work with this,” Krillin answered. “This isn’t a very common name, and you have most of the digits anyway.”

Vegeta grit his teeth.  “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome, buddy,” Krillin answered happily. “So, I guess we’re all even now…”

“Even, how?” he asked, running a hand down his face. “Seriously, what the hell are you talking about?”

“Nothing!” Krillin answered, too quickly. “We’re all good. I will get your information tomorrow. For now, I need to go back to sleep.”

Vegeta’s jaw dropped when the line suddenly went dead, and he again resisted the urge to drive the three blocks that separated his and Krillin’s homes so he can disembowel him, himself.

It wouldn’t do him well to plot Krillin’s death, however, as he was Vegeta’s easiest way to finding Bulma again.

 

The following day, Vegeta angrily downed his fourth cup of coffee as he stared distractedly at the contracts before him. He needed to go through those papers with a fine-toothed comb, but when he had barely had the wherewithal to comb his own hair, how was he supposed to make any progress?

“Vegeta-”

“What?!” he growled, looking up to find Kakarot hovering over him.

“Um… are you ok?”

“No.”

“Ah, I figured,” Kakarot said with a wince. “But you seemed so happy yesterday-”

“Every single day presents me with different reasons to be angry.”

Vegeta glanced at his phone again, willing it to ring, waiting for Krillin to give him that last digit that he needed so he can finally call Bulma. However, he was surprised when, just as he was about to turn back to his contracts, he spied an unmistakable shiny bald head walk in through the main office door, inconspicuously making its way towards his office.

He stood up, indiscreetly looking over Kakarot’s shoulder. Curious, the taller man turned around as well, just in time for Krillin to emerge from behind a low divider and walk towards them both.

“Hey, Krillin!” Kakarot greeted.

“Hey Goku,” Krillin answered, addressing Kakarot with an old nickname that he was more widely known as to their entire circle of friends.

“Krillin,” Vegeta said, brows furrowed low over his eyes. “I have been waiting for you to call all morning.”

“Sorry Vegeta,” Krillin said.

“What are you doing here, Krillin?” Kakarot asked. “Did you come to apologize for that thing you told me about?”

Vegeta felt his brows furrow as that strange thing that Krillin had seemed to be sorry about popped up again, and he asked, “What exactly is it, that you both keep hinting that Krillin did wrong?”

“Well, you know, when he stole your blind date,” Kakarot said.

Vegeta’s eyes narrowed at the bald man, who cringed back in horror. “You… what?”

“I didn’t mean to!” Krillin said, waving his hands before him in placation. “I was just supposed to be Lazuli’s Uber driver, but she said my bald head was cute and she’d rather date me instead. She told me to go to another restaurant. She’s hot, so I agreed. I didn’t realize that you were the guy that she stood up until our date was almost over!”

Vegeta shook his head in stunned disbelief. He could just _kick_ Krillin, but then again, perhaps he should thank him and his stupid bald head. After all, if this Lazuli had not ditched him, he wouldn’t have met Bulma.

“You know what,” he growled. “I don’t give a damn about that. What I do care about is the information I asked you for.”

Krillin swallowed, and Vegeta thought that he started to look even more nervous.

“I have your information,” Krillin said. “But… well, see-”

He looked extremely uncomfortable, and Vegeta was beginning to really lose what remaining patience he had left.

“What?” Vegeta asked, clenching his fists atop his desk.

“Sorry, it’s just…” Krillin answered, and Vegeta quickly noticed how his whole head was turning red, starting from his ears. “My findings were a bit strange, so I wanted to confirm with you first.”

“Get out Kakarot,” Vegeta said to his cousin. When Kakarot simply blinked at him, he barked, “This is confidential!”

Kakarot shrugged, walking away and leaving him and the private investigator alone.

“Alright, what’s the number?” Vegeta asked impatiently, as he reached for his phone to modify the incorrect entry on his contacts list.

“Before that,” Krillin said, reaching into a large envelope to pull out a few sheets of paper. “I want you to confirm if this is the woman you’re trying to reach.”

Vegeta took the papers from Krillin, and right on the very first page, he saw Bulma, smiling widely at something off screen. He was barely able to smother the grin that threatened to pull at his lips as he indulged briefly in the sight of her cerulean eyes, her familiar blue hair that flowed carelessly down her back. She was wearing a white coat over a green shirt and denim jeans, and he noticed that she was wearing the necklace that she had worn on the night of their date.

He nodded, looking back at Krillin. “This is her.”

“Ah,” Krillin said simply, looking down at the papers.

“What?” Vegeta asked, frowning at the way Krillin scratched uncomfortably at the back of his head. 

“Look at the other pages, Vegeta.”

Confused, Vegeta turned to the next page. It was what looked to be a magazine article, with Bulma’s picture at the top. His eyes quickly scanned the headline, and when he did, he felt his eyes widen.

_The Fabulous Life of Bulma Briefs._

_“Briefs?”_ he thought. _“I know that name…”_

He turned to the next page, finding a similar article, but this time, the title read, _Bulma Briefs, The Youngest Inductee of the Whis Angel Scientific Society._

The next pages were a bunch of other features, and he felt his jaw drop at the last one, which read, _Father-Daughter Team Trunks and Bulma Briefs: The Brains Behind Capsulization Technology._

Vegeta turned back to Krillin, eyes still wide in shock. This was a completely unexpected turn of events, and he gaped dumbly as the information very slowly sunk in.

“Are you trying to tell me,” Vegeta began, “That this woman is… a high-profile scientist?”

“No, I am saying she is an _extremely_ high-profile scientist,” Krillin said, leaning against his desk, before he continued. “She is incredibly famous in the scientific community.”

“No shit,” Vegeta muttered, staring in disbelief at the papers again.

“I have her number,” Krillin said. “I even have her address. Do you want it?”

 

8-8-8-8-8

 

Bulma was not in a very good mood.

She stood before a whiteboard in her office, staring balefully at a confusing algorithm. Normally, it would not have been difficult for her to solve, but right then, she was distracted.

After their _amazing_ date, she had expected Vegeta to give her a call, soon _._ But it had been three days, and she had not heard from him at all.

“What the hell is he waiting for?” she asked out loud to no one, as she angrily erased a mistake in the formula.

Was he trying to be macho, making her wait beside her phone like a lovesick teenager?

Ha! As if. She was _not_ the kind of girl to pine after a man, especially one she didn’t actually even _know._ Yet, even as the petty thought went through her mind, Bulma found her hand wandering into the right pocket of her lab coat to agitatedly palm her phone.

“Why didn’t _I_ ask for _his_ number?” Bulma muttered, jabbing her marker a bit too hard onto the whiteboard. “Jerk.”

Her foul mood followed her for her entire work day, all the way until it was time for her to head home.

 She stomped angrily through the halls, reaching into her bag as she approached the large doorways leading into the street. She pulled her capsulized car out of her purse, and she was just about to throw the small capsule onto the road to bring it back into full size when something in her peripheral vision made her pause.

Slowly, she turned around, until her eyes landed on a lone figure leaning against the side of the entrance, just a few meters away.

The incredibly black, piercing eyes, and the dark flame-like hair, were unmistakable.

Vegeta.

He was dressed in a red button-up shirt with sleeves rolled up to his elbows, and simple black slacks. He looked calmly confident as he stared back at her, a wicked gleam in his eyes as he watched her jaw drop in surprise.

Shockingly, he was even more handsome than she remembered.

Nevertheless, Bulma had to remember that she was _pissed_. She narrowed her eyes at him, irritated at his delay, even while her heart thumped loudly in relief at the sight of him. She began to stomp towards him as she stuck her car back into her bag, clenching and unclenching her fists as she took note of his infuriatingly smug face.

He was smirking at her, arms crossed before his wide chest. His eyes were narrowed into mischievous slits as he watched her approach. When she finally stood before him, she huffed, placing her hands on her hips.

“Vegeta,” she bit out.

“Bulma,” he answered, before his smirk widened into a wide, teasing grin. “Or should I say, _Dr. Briefs?”_

She cringed. Though Bulma had never lied about her work, she had purposely done everything she could to not bring it up, and she felt guilty about not having told him who she was.

“You’ve been researching, I see,” she answered. “Is that how you found my office?”

He pushed away from the wall to stand before her, dropping both hands to his sides.

“I normally do not make it a habit to find information on women I had just met,” he said. “But seeing as I needed to find a way to get your correct mobile number, I stumbled upon a lot more information than necessary.”

Her eyes widened. “What do you mean? I gave you my correct number!”

He shook his head as he reached into his pocket to pull out his phone. He unlocked it, then flashed the screen at her.

Bulma looked at the contact entry that she had made for herself, and it took her less than a moment to find an embarrassing error. She felt her face burst into flames as she looked at her mistake, and immediately, her irritation at Vegeta melted into humiliated guilt.

“Oh my God,” she said. “I am so sorry. This number…”

“9-1-7-8-3-1-5-0-5,” Vegeta read out. “I had to pull some strings to find the correct number. It is a good thing that my job has given me access to several private investigators.”

“My number is 9-1-7-8-3-1-5-0- _0_ -5,” she said, hands flying up to her chest, jostling her favorite dream-catcher necklace from where it hung around her neck. “I am so, _so_ sorry. I can’t believe you went through the trouble of finding my number…”

“I am a persistent man. I always get what I want,” he said, “and I wanted to find you again, Bulma.”

She felt her eyes widen in stunned pleasure at his words, and her heart fluttered in excitement when the meaning behind his simple statement sang within her mind. He went through tremendous efforts to find her again, and Bulma couldn’t help her giddy grin as she looked at his smirking face.

“You… wanted to see me again?”

“I did,” he said. “And I just thought, because of this delay, that perhaps we could go on that second date, right now.”

“Right now?” Bulma asked, surprised.

He shrugged. “It is a Friday night. I have nothing better to do.”

“You wanna go out… right now?”

“I believe you owe me another date for what you have put me through,” he said. “Believe me, when I found out who you were, I had almost considered not contacting you again, at all. You never told me that you were famous.”

“Does that bother you?”

He shrugged again. “Not really. After all, I have secrets, too.”

She nodded.

She watched him look away for a moment, as a light flush coated his cheeks. He seemed to hesitate before he looked back at her, biting thoughtfully at his lower lip before he spoke again.

“I have quite a few secrets, truth be told. And… if you would be interested,” he said, “I would not mind at all, if you wish to pry.”

Bulma laughed as she felt happiness bubble up within her. She easily understood exactly what it was that he wanted to say.

He wanted them to get to know each other better. He was willing to _date_ her, if she was willing, as well.

“I would be delighted, if you would let me pry,” she said, before she reached forward, boldly pulling one of his hands into her own.

Vegeta blinked, before his smile returned; a small, hesitant grin that brought to her all the brightness of the stars that they were unable to see in the city’s night sky.

She glanced down at their linked hands, finding the watch with Vegeta’s family emblem. He _had_ said that he would let her know more about him, and she just found the first question that she wanted to ask.

“Hey Vegeta?” she called. “What’s your last name?”

Without missing a beat, he answered. “Prince.”

Bulma stilled, her free hand moving up to clutch her necklace as exhilarated and hopeful surprise flashed through her. “Prince? Seriously?”

“Yes, is there a problem?”

Bulma’s smile grew impossibly wider.

 _Prince_. What were the odds?

Hadn’t she always been looking for her Prince Charming?

She let go of her dream catcher as she hopped forward giddily. Perhaps, the little necklace had finally done its job, she thought, as she clutched Vegeta’s hand in hers. As cliché as it may sound, Bulma happily concluded that she possibly, finally, held her dreams in her hands.

She pulled him with her, and just like the previous time, she had no idea where she wanted to go. However, now, she knew that wherever their feet may take them, she would have Vegeta with her.

She was so excited to see how far they could go with each other!

And if it were up to her now, she was never letting go.

 

8-8-8-8-8

_The End_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And that's it for this story! I hope that all of you who had read and followed this little fic had enjoyed the short ride.  
> Special thanks to Vegebulocracy for hosting and organizing this event!  
> And of course, my unending gratitude to my girls Blacksheep115 and Bitchytimemachine, and to Katschusa and [Tepepany](%E2%80%9C), my partners for this event, for the incredible art.  
> Until the next story! :)


	6. ART SHOWCASE

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is not an additional story chapter! However, I felt like I needed to once again showcase the amazing art done by the three fantastic artists who drew pieces for this fic. After all, this event is not just about the stories, it is about the talented people who drew art for us all, too!  
> So, this update is for you all to see the lovely art works! I loved all these, and I am sure all of you will, too!

By **Tepepany** ([Twitter ](https://twitter.com/SGreeneArt)/[Instagram](https://instagram.com/tepepany))

 

 

([Link to Artist's Post](https://twitter.com/SGreeneArt/status/1124306217235558400))

 

([Link to Artist's Post](https://twitter.com/SGreeneArt/status/1124306422467002369))

 

8-8-8-8-8

 

By **Katschusa** ([Tumblr ](https://katschusa.tumblr.com/)/[Twitter](https://twitter.com/Katschusa))

 

([Link to Artist's Post](https://katschusa.tumblr.com/post/184621161125/blinded-long-time-no-see-everyone-im-finally))

 

8-8-8-8-8

 

By **Rucifie** ([Tumblr ](http://rucifiesart.tumblr.com/)/[Instagram](https://instagram.com/rucifiesart))

 

([Link to Artist's Post](https://rucifiesart.tumblr.com/post/184772838940/a-little-late-and-a-little-chaotic-but-its))


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